


Brinkmanship

by neveralarch



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-04
Updated: 2010-11-04
Packaged: 2017-10-19 04:55:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neveralarch/pseuds/neveralarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Master plays well with himself. Not so much with the Doctor. (Set during the End of Time.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brinkmanship

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the best_enemies kinkmeme. Features dubcon, possibly noncon.

"Get him out of here," snarled the Master, pointing at Wilf. The Doctor made protesting noises through his gag as two of the guard-clones dragged the elderly man away.

"Oh, don't worry," said the Master. He stepped close to where the Doctor was bound on Mr. Naismith's terribly obvious bondage chair, letting the twitching at his mouth coalesce into a grin. "I'm not planning on doing anything to him. I just thought we could have a little more...privacy."

"Muh?" said the Doctor.

"I'm alive again, Doctor! A little glitchy, it's true, but alive, which is good. There were some things I was missing, while I was bereft of a corporeal body."

The Doctor swallowed, hard. The Master watched every working of the other Time Lord's neck, fascinated by the way it was stretched tight by the pull of the straps. He leaned in until he could almost flick out his tongue and lick that vulnerable flesh. Or bite it, mar it with crimson half-moons. The Master shivered.

"I could really," he said, thoughtfully, his breath brushing across the Doctor's skin, "use a good, hard fuck."

The Doctor made a noise. The Master looked down, pleased to see the expected erection.

"Oh, but not from you, I think." He leaned back from the Doctor, craning his neck to look at the clone which had been made from Abigail. The clone nodded in understanding and walked to stand next to the Master, high heels clicking against the floor.

The Doctor's eyes widened, then narrowed, and finally he just rolled them, raising his eyebrows. The Master scowled at him.

"You're just jealous," he said, "that I can do myself without a time paradox."

The clone smirked, and started to undress the Master, pulling his sweatshirt over his head, and then kneeling to unzip his trousers. The Master, hair standing on end now from the cling of his sweatshirt, smiled and settled his hand in his clone's hair.

The Doctor tried to keep looking pitying and amused, but mostly he just looked extremely aroused.

The Master was going to say something about that, but right then his clone took his cock in his mouth, and the Master had to clamp his jaw to keep an undignified whimper from coming out. He fought to keep control of himself as the person with the best possible knowledge of how he liked it sucked him tortuously slow, a tiny scrape of teeth just barely grounding him.

After a few moments, the Master cracked open his eyes to be greeted with the image of the Doctor devouring him with a stare. The other man's hands were clenching and unclenching on the armrests of the chair, and it was all perfect. The Master smiled, and then moaned as his clone sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks. The Doctor's hips bucked up a little in response to the sound, and the Master came, hand tightening in his clone's hair.

His legs were suddenly wobbly, and he whimpered, unsuppressed this time, as his clone swallowed around his cock. Finally the clone let the Master's cock fall out of his mouth and stood up, fishing in the bra underneath his dress. The Master raised one eyebrow, then the other, as his clone produced a small tube lubricant.

"She kept that in her bra? Seriously?"

"They were a pretty kinky family, the Naismiths," said the clone, musing. "Push-up bra, too, that's why it didn't fall out."

"Huh," said the Master, and started to look around for a convenient place to be taken on. "Where do you-" he caught the direction of his clone's gaze and turned to look at the Doctor. "Oh. Perfect."

In a few moments he was perched on the Doctor's lap, head on his shoulder, trousers tangled around his ankles, and his clone's slick fingers twisting inside of him. The Master hissed as the fingers brushed his prostate, resisting the impulse to turn his head and suck on the Doctor's neck. Finally, his clone decided the Master was ready, and hitched up his dress, revealing the hard cock underneath. He pushed in, and the Master arched his back against the Doctor, relishing the rush he got from the mixed pain and pleasure of being penetrated.

The position was awkward, and the clone could only thrust shallowly, but, oh, it was worth it. The Doctor's hearts were pounding at the Master's back, faster than the drums, drowning them out. The clone shifted a little and found a better angle, and the Master pushed back in response, skirting over the Doctor's cloth-covered erection. The Doctor's left heart hitched when he did that, and the Master grinned and did it again, making sure not to provide quite enough friction for the Doctor to get off.

The clone's thrusts started to become erratic, and a hand brushed across the Master's cock, making him gasp. Hard again, he came after only a few strokes, the resulting tremors setting off his clone.

The Master just lay on top of the Doctor for a moment, breathing hard, feeling the other man's hearts jackhammer against him. After a while the beats began to calm down, and his clone withdrew. The Master slid back down to the ground, purposefully brushing against the Doctor's cock one last time.

"Very nice," he murmured to his clone, and started to do up his trousers. "Go and get yourself cleaned up, and get them to bring that old man back in again."

The clone smoothed down his dress and nodded, moving quickly to the door.

The Master looked around for his sweatshirt, smirking at a glaring Doctor.

"Just think, if only you had shown up while they still had me tied to that thing, it could've been you having your way with me then. Oh, there it is." The Master picked up his sweatshirt from where it had been kicked under a chair and pulled it over his head.

When he looked back up, the Doctor looked like he was torn between lust and anger. Back to normal, then.

"Oh, just show some initiative," said the Master. "If you can win this little game, I still have that collar lying around somewhere..."

The Doctor muttered something. Probably about it not being a game.

"You have to play," said the Master, flatly, as the guard-clones hauled Wilf back in to the room. He grinned, first hard and threatening, and then melting into something more playful. "You have to, if you want your prize."


End file.
